About Two Dads
by Nuitah
Summary: Chapter 9, About Beards and Dresses. Blackmail, crossdressing and some more dancing daisies. Raising Harry AU, RemusxSirius.
1. About the Birds and the Bees

**Disclaimer**: I'm crazy, not delusional. JKR owns them all.

**Warning**: if you find homosexuality offensive, please don't read this one. It would save you the trouble of getting all red and angry.

AND this is AU. I know some of you don't believe in AU's, I respect that, but note thatthere is a good reason for it's AUness- Sirius not being sent to Azkaban is a positive thing, isn't that?

**A/N**:Ifind the ideaof Moony and Padfoot raising Harry very sweet (and not in the marshmallow kind of way, mind). Now I know it was done before. Allot. By people who don't abuse the English language like I do (yeah, sorry about that), but I had to try it myself. Reviews are also sweet. Write them.

This one is dedicated to my lovely Pumpkin (yeah, Sharo, don't make a face, you are and you always will be, MY PUMPKIN...). My gift to you in rocket times...

My love and thanks to Bali and Vivi. Any remaining spelling/grammar errors are my fault, and will not be held against you(:

**About the Birds and the Bees**

Remus was sitting at his study, reading essays his muggle students handed in earlier that day. He was a picture of homey tranquility, and Sirius would prefer just standing there in the doorstep watching him, but the man working so peacefully was much better than him in dealing with problems, especially the kind of problems Sirius has recently realized they had had.

"Moony, we have a problem" he said, eventually.

Remus turned in his chair. "Sirius Black, it would pain me greatly, but I _will_ lock you in the basement if you tell me you rode my bicycle into the lake again".

"Oh yeah, that too…" Sirius said, sitting down on the other chair in the room. Basement threats were made twice a week and he didn't take them too seriously (though there was a part of his mischievous mind that believed that one of this days Moony would act upon his warnings). "But really, Rem, I can't apparate, I can't floo, am I suppose to walk!"

"If you weren't so stubborn I would teach you how to ride the bloody thing and you wouldn't end up in the lake every single time! Fishing for fish is bad enough; I'm very much tired of fishing for my bike". At this point of the discussion Remus' face had a delicate shade of red which made Sirius ridiculously happy. Red faced Moony was irresistible.

"I'm sorry Rem, but listen; I'll go fishing them out first thing tomorrow morning and fix them for you, okay?" Padfoot's apologetic face was as irresistible as Moony's red one.

"I prefer you wouldn't, Pads, the last time you tried to fix my bike they were pink and shiny for weeks before I found the counter spell."

"It was an accident"

"You know, Padfoot, for someone so proud of his manliness, your accidents end up causing pinkness and shininess quite often"

"Changing the subject now"

Remus laughed and then looked lovingly at Sirius, who stared sulkily at the floor. "What was the other problem we had?" he asked, and was surprised to see Sirius shifting uncomfortably in his chair. Not many things made Sirius Black uncomfortable.

"When I took Harry to the Ragils' house he asked me why David Ragil calls one of his dads mum"

"Oh"

"Yeah"

They were both silent for a moment. "Well, he _is_ seven; we should expect him to need the Birds and Bees Conversation soon"

"We don't know much about birds, Moony"

"Well, the Birds and Bees conversation- version for the Raised by Gay Dads Child, I guess"

"There is my version for it, though"

"What did you tell him, Sirius?" it was Remus' basement tone again.

"I told him that 'mum' is French for 'dad'"

"Very wise of you Padfoot, this one"

"What was I suppose to say 'listen Harry, there are some idiots out there who prefer living their lives with women, though Merlin help me, I can't understand why'!"

"That would be even wiser"

"This is why I want _you_ to explain it to him, Moony. You'll know what to say"

A few hours later, seven years old Harry Potter was sitting on one side of the kitchen table, looking curiously at his two nervous looking fathers. They were sitting on the other side of the table, staring at it much like they did years ago, when they sat in McGonagall's office after being caught in a closet doing things they would not mention in this conversation, or any other conversation involving their child.

They both remembered Harry wasn't really _their_ child, of course. And they made sure Harry remembered that too. He knew about his parents, Lily and James. He had a photo album full of pictures of them, and many nights full of stories about them, told by the two people who loved the Potters most. In the beginning, Remus and Sirius didn't even think they would be named dads by Harry. They planned to be his uncle Padfoot and uncle Moony, like they originally were, but when raising a child, you can't control everything that happens, and this was one of the things they didn't mind got out of control.

"How was your afternoon with David, pup?" Remus asked, taking Harry's glasses off his nose and cleaning them.

"Really cool! Dave has a video game of bombing the Seven Wonders of the World! He let me destroy Giza!"

Of course, thought Remus, from all muggle cities of the world, Dumbledore had to choose an American one. How was he supposed to raise Harry as a nice, polite British young wizard like that?

"There is something we need to talk to you about, Harry" Remus said gently.

Harry looked quickly at Sirius, who was, according to Harry's experience with Moony's Serious Talks, supposed to say something about Serious Talks being boring, and ice cream being interesting, just about now.

Sirius was silent, and Harry knew something was _really_ wrong this time.

"Harry" Remus started again, still not sure about the way he planed this conversation to go. "You know how there are two kinds of people in the world?"

"Yeah, some people have greasy hair and others are nicer" said Harry happily. Sirius explained it to him the other day, and Harry knew he would be proud of him remembering it so accurately.

Remus glared at the other man, who, for the moment, found the ceiling particularly interesting.

"No, Harry, I mean men and women"

"Oh, like Mr. and Ms. Ragil?"

"Yes Harry, like David's parents"

"I wanted to ask Dave why one of his dads wears dresses, but then he showed me that game and I forgot"

"Now, you see Harry, David doesn't have two dads, he has a dad and a mum"

"You mean one of his dads is French, right? Daddy explained it to me already. Can I go outside now?" Harry was getting bored. Playing fetch with Padfoot outside was far more interesting then sitting in the kitchen talking about French people, and he has just borrowed a ball that was supposed to shine in the dark.

"No, Harry, 'mum' isn't really French for 'dad'; it was just one of Sirius' Pranks"

"Like the time he made me turn all pink and shiny?"

"THAT WAS AN ACCIDENT" Sirius finally gave up his safe silent staring at the ceiling.

"Of course it was" Remus wasn't going to let Sirius change the subject this time, so he continued.

"The point is, pup, that David's dad is a man, like Sirius and me, and David's mum is a woman and they live together, like most men and women do."

There was a moment of silence. Then Harry spoke.

"Why?"

Sirius and Remus exchanged worried looks. They feared that one.

"Well Harry, men and women they… Well they just like each other, usually. Some of them don't, and it is all right, but some of them do, and it is also okay, you see?" Remus was mainly mumbling

Harry stared at him.

Then Sirius spoke.

"What Rem is trying to say, Harry, is that all men need someone to get mad at them when they do silly things, like sink the bike in the lake, or tell the postman that he's slower then a slow motioned turtle, or give a seven years old boy a full box of ice cream (Harry: "that's not silly, I ate it all!" Remus: "and felt ill for two days!"). Some men like women to get mad at them, others prefer it that men get mad at them. Me for example, I wouldn't want anybody else in the world to yell at me for being stupid, but my Moony.

They were all silent again. And again it was Harry to break the silence.

"Okay"

The identical stunned expressions on Remus and Sirius' faces were amusing. So Harry laughed. Then he took his over-cleaned glasses from Remus and got up.

"Come play fetch with me?" He asked cheerfully.

It was dark, and Harry's borrowed ball flew shining across the grassy yard.

It was much easier to explain Harry why one of his dads turned into a big black dog every once in a while then to explain to him why said dad kissed his other dad goodnight, Remus thought. Sirius was good at it, though, when he tried. Something to do with his child-like view on most facts of the world. When the time comes for the next step in the Birds and the Bees issue, anyway, he was going to let his Padfoot do all of the talking and sit quietly to enjoy the show. He would never admit it to Sirius, with his already abnormally large ego, but Remus found his irrational yet adorable way of explaining things, more than pleasurable.


	2. About Cold Feet

**Disclaimer**: I'm crazy, not delusional. JKR owns them all.

**Warning**: if you find homosexuality offensive, please don't read this one. It would save you the trouble of getting all red and angry.

AND this is AU. I know some of you don't believe in AU's, I respect that, but note that there is a good reason for it's AUness- Sirius not being sent to Azkaban is a positive thing, isn't that?

**A/N**: I find the idea of Moony and Padfoot raising Harry very sweet (and not in the marshmallow kind of way, mind). Now I know it was done before. Allot. By people who don't abuse the English language as much as I do (yeah, sorry about that), but I had to try it myself. Reviews are also sweet. Write them.

This one is dedicated to my lovely Pumpkin (yeah, Sharo, don't make a face, you are and you always will be, MY PUMPKIN...). My gift to you in rocket times...

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**About Cold Feet**

"I'm not riding your killing machine, Sirius, so don't ask me".

Sirius, standing just behind him, a helmet in his hand and his mouth open to speak, frowned and sat down on one of the rocks. They were both in their nice little garden, outside their nice little house in the nice little British village. Remus didn't know what he had missed more during their time in muggle America; being a part of a wizarding community, or living in England. Now, less than two years before Harry's first year at Hogwarts, they were finally able to enjoy both.

It was a nice day, not too cold. Remus was gardening and Sirius was sulking.

"But Moony" he whined "you NEVER come riding with me, it's not fair!"

"Padfoot dear, you should set an example for the nine years old boy, not the other way around. Whining will only serve for making me send you to your room, and I know how bored you get when you're there."

"Only when I'm alone" Sirius winked. Remus couldn't help a smile, which was immediately taken advantage of. "Come on Rem, you'll LOVE it, it's the greatest thing!"

"The greatest thing?" Remus' raised eyebrow was full of expression.

"Well, it's in a good spot on the List of Greatest Things, I guess" Sirius said guiltily. He knew he had lost this battle. If only he knew how to think before acting, life would have much less victorious Remus in it. And perhaps a bit more victorious Sirius, too.

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"What're you doin'?" Harry walked into the kitchen, where Sirius was sitting and concentrating hard on something.

"Knitting, I think" Sirius looked up at the boy, a little embarrassed. "I'm not quite sure, though. Knitting was the general intention, but things rarely happen as I intend them to."

Harry looked skeptically at the shapeless mess of wool on the kitchen table. "It looks like a mess of wool" he said. Young Harry had discovered the wonders of sarcasm and at the age of nine used it carelessly. It made it very difficult to tell when he was being cynical, and when it was his child-innocence.

"Doesn't look like socks, then?" Sirius asked, hopefully.

Harry shook his head. "Sorry. It could be a baby camel's blanket, though" He offered generously.

"Oh, if only Moony's feet resembled baby camels." Sirius said gravely. Harry chuckled.

"What are the socks for?" he asked.

"Well, Harry dear, exactly twelve years and three days ago Moony and I finally found a way to tell each other about are feelings."

Harry raised an eyebrow. He looks more like Remus everyday, Sirius though, smiling. He found out long ago that there was more than genetics in to the qualities of a child.

"Don't look so bored you prat, it's a highly important event in our lives. Including your life. Do you think I could raise you all by myself, without my Moony?"

"No, I would probably die of sugar poisoning at four" Harry said thoughtfully.

(That was definitely sarcasm.)

"Most likely. So you see, I have to show Moony how much I appreciate him."

"By giving him socks?"

(Sarcasm again, AND a raised eyebrow to back it up. Moonyness all around, this child.)

"Moony believes in homemade gifts, for some bizarre reason, and his feet are always cold in the winter."

"You should make him your party punch. It'd warm him up, and you actually know how to make it"

Sirius narrowed his eyes in an aristocratic threat (Harry has embraced that gesture as well, but used it only when facing Remus, for his own reasons.)

"I'm going to give him socks, even if it's the last thing I'll ever do!" Sirius declared, and it was the end of the discussion.

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"What are you doing to the helmet?" Harry stood behind Remus who was pointing his wand at Sirius' motorcycle helmet.

"Trying to figure out which spell would make it as unbreakable as possible" Remus smiled apologetically.

Harry used Sirius' infamous eyes narrowing. "Why would you do such thing, when you have promised never to get anywhere near Sirius' Ugly Monster?"

"Killing Machine, Harry, you're only allowed to use the phrase Killing Machine. Padfoot must not find out about the other names I give this _thing_" Remus said urgently. "And you are not allowed to call it a _thing_ as well, okay, pup?" He added after some thought.

"Would it buy me a second helping of chocolate cake if I said yes?" Harry smiled charmingly.

He acts more like Sirius every day, Remus thought, secretly pleased. He liked finding Sirius in Harry.

"No blackmailing, you sneaky little thing, but I might just decide you are old enough to have a second helping now, _anyway_. Things like that happen sometimes" Remus said vaguely.

Harry smiled charmingly again. "So, are you going to ride the _Killing Machine?_"

"I guess I am" Remus said, shrugging. "It's a gift. One I think would make Padfoot happy. The sadistic man enjoys seeing me frightened."

"It's a very nice gift, actually" Harry said genuinely before skipping away to get his second slice of chocolate cake for the day.

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"He's asleep" Remus said quietly when he got to the bottom of the stairs. "Definitely exhausted him, your 'short and basic' flying lesson today."

"Oh, but he's a natural, Rem. He's going to be an excellent Quidditch player" Sirius was still enthusiastic. Or perhaps was already enthusiastic about something else. "Presents time!" he diclaried merrily.

"You go first" Remus said, smiling.

Sirius nodded and handed him a present, unidentifiably shaped.

Remus opened it slowly and carefully and frowned for a moment. "Do I get a baby camel with it, Pads?" he asked eventually.

"Who is influenced by the nine year old now?" He asked, a little irritably. "These are SOCKS!" he said to the confused Remus, who tried hard not to laugh.

"Now thank you, Padfoot, I much appreciate it. And of course these are socks, I can see it clearly now" Remus said and hugged him.

"What about your present? It's not a _vocabulary_ again, right? You know I don't CARE that 'greasifully' is not a word." Sirius said.

"It's not a vocabulary, Pads. Though you SHOULD NOT tell Harry that Severus is 'greasifully walking' when we see him on the street." Remus said and took a step towards the door. "My gift is outside"

"Last year's star gazing was wonderful, Moony, but it's awful cloudy today" Sirius said, trying to hide his disappointment.

"It's not stargazing, Padfoot" Remus said and opened the door. "Just follow me."

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"Are you…" Sirius stared at Remus in disbelief.

"Yes" Remus answered, trying to look determined.

They were both standing by Sirius' motorcycle, looking at it, in very different levels of appreciation.

Then Sirius looked at Remus. "That's a wonderful gift, Rem. The best, really, but you don't have to do it. I know you don't want to."

Remus took his hand. "Well, in some ways I do want to. And in any case, I have your socks to help me get over my cold feet." He said, genuinely determined this time.

Sirius kissed him and handed him the now much protected helmet. "On you jump, then!" He said cheerfully. He has wanted to say these words to Remus for years.

And Remus jumped- or more accurately, clumsily climbed- the Killing Machine. He hugged Sirius' hips (quite tightly), and closed his eyes.

And then they were flying.

This, thought Sirius, is too great even for the List of Greatest Things.

This, thought Remus, isn't so bad, after all. And my feet are warm.


	3. About Women's Behinds

**Disclaimer**: I'm crazy, not delusional. JKR owns them all.

**Warning**: if you find homosexuality offensive, please don't read this one. It would save you the trouble of getting all red and angry.

AND this is AU. I know some of you don't believe in AU's, I respect that, but note that there is a good reason for it's AUness- Sirius not being sent to Azkaban is a positive thing, isn't that?

**A/N (and it's new!)**: I don't like chapter 3. I don't like it at all. BUT chapter 3 won't go away. I tried reasoning with it, I tried begging, I threatened using violence, but chapter 3 remained, well, chapter 3 and should be referred to, from now on, asTHE EVIL CHAPTER! So just try to bear with me throughTHE EVIL CHAPTER and I promise to convince chapter 4 to be nicer.

This one is dedicated to Kathryn, who is not only a wonderful beta, but a brilliant teacher (and she manages to survive my outrageous mistakes). AND to Lucie, who gave me a once in a life time opportunity (probably) to see a story of mine translated to French. Thank you, sweet people.

**Dear reviewers- I love you all. Thank you for being lovely (:**

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**About Women's behinds (and some more serious issues)**

Remus and Sirius were arguing.

Harry, sitting on the top of the stairs in the dimmed light of the second floor (way past his bed time) was concerned. He only remembered them arguing once before, when he was much younger and not tall enough to stand on a chair and tell them to stop like he wanted to.

Back then, the argument had been about Padfoot's outrageous behavior.

"You just can't try the _Spelling Times_ new spells on random Muggles!" Moony had said.

"It's just some harmless experimentation, Moony, nothing to worry about." Padfoot never took Moony's behavior lessons too seriously.

"I would hardly call making an innocent woman's behind double its size harmless; you know how women feel about their behinds, Sirius."

"I don't, really. The bigger the better?"

"You are utterly and undoubtedly hopeless, Padfoot."

"And you wouldn't have me any other way, Moony, love."

Back then, Padfoot had started laughing half way through the argument, and Moony couldn't help joining him. Moony always joined in Padfoot's laughter. And Harry laughed too, though he didn't understand the joke. He was just happy when they each grabbed a little Harry's arm and lifted him in the air, still laughing.

They weren't laughing this time. And though Harry was tall enough to stand on a chair and yell at them, he didn't. He sat silently and listened.

This time they were arguing about him, and that made him feel a little guilty, like the time he played with Moony's umbrella and forgot to put it back in his bag, and Moony got home wet and sneezing.

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"His hair is hiding the scar, Moony, we'd only have to officially change his last name and ask the teachers not to use 'Potter'. It's not that complicated." Sirius was trying to explain the simple logic of it all to Remus, who, apparently, looked at the matter at hand in a wholly different way.

"They would forget. It'd slip out, Pads. I bet the older teachers will call him James very often. He looks so much like him." Remus was just as calm, and his voice soft still.

"We'll find a way. A charm. We have to. They'll never leave him alone otherwise." Sirius was unusually serious (absolutely no pun intended, you mean people!) Remus knew that, childish and careless as Sirius still was, he was mature and rather protective when it was about Harry (and about Remus himself, he admitted to himself warmly).

"But Harry knows his last name is Potter, and he knows what happened to his parents, and he shouldn't have to hide it away." Remus often let Sirius have things his own way. He was like that with his Padfoot. But this time was different. It was critical that he make Sirius _understand_. "Secrets aren't good for children, Padfoot. They're not good for anyone, really" he said.

"Yet some things are better left hidden. There are still Slytherins at this school, Remus." Sirius was just as determined to make Remus _understand_.

"He's a smart child. He can handle them. We mustn't teach him to fear his own history." Remus used the teaching tone he adopted while teaching in the Muggle University.

Sirius was never the obedient pupil, though. "So it's better to allow his past to control his entire life? He'd be surrounded by enemies who'd try to hurt him, or fools who'd be attracted to his mystery. No real friends. No normal school life. We wanted him to have a normal life, remember?" Sirius' tones were getting angrier. He wasn't so good with the whole anger management thing.

"We also wanted him to remember his parents, and what they did for him." Remus, on the other hand, controlled his tones very well. They were painfully icy now. "And keeping secrets isn't the best way to lead a normal life."

"Yeah, you should know!" Sirius was practically yelling. "If we hadn't found about you being a werewolf ourselves you would still be going to your grandma's tea parties every full moon, wouldn't you! Marvelous excuse, by the way."

Remus got very still, his palms tight fists. "This is why I don't want Harry to have to make up excuses, Sirius. I'm pretty sure he inherited my sense of invention."

It was like Remus to be sarcastic while very angry. It was also like him to leave the area until he calmed down. So he went upstairs.

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Harry heard the silence first, and then the gentle footsteps on the stairs. He ran quickly and quietly to his bed and covered himself with his blanket. He waited, trying to breathe evenly.

Then he heard soft steps on his room's rug, and smelled the most comforting smell in the world, and felt a long-fingered hand on his hair. And he knew it would be all right, and he could fall asleep.

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Remus sat down on the couch beside Sirius, sighing.

"I know you just want him to be happy, Padfoot. I know. I want that too."

Sirius looked at him quietly, then lovingly. He put an arm around Remus' shoulders and drew him close. "Yes, you do," he said.

"Maybe," Remus started, hesitantly, "we should just wait and see what Harry chooses to do, and not order him one way or the other."

"Maybe," Sirius said. "I guess so," he added after some more thought.

They sat there, cuddled and warm and deep in thought.

Remus knew that Harry wasn't him, and that even if Harry lived his life not having to hide a single secret, it wouldn't change the fact that Remus had been hiding secrets _his_ whole life.

Sirius knew that Harry was merely his godson, and that it shouldn't be through Harry that he changed the agony that _his_ last name has caused him throughout the years.

They knew they would have to let go. To some extent, anyway.

"I liked it better when we argued about women's behinds, Moony," Padfoot commented into the silence.

Moony agreed with a smile. And then he thoughtfully asked "What last name would you give Harry instead of Potter anyway?"

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Harry saw a boy with very red hair sitting in the otherwise empty compartment.

He entered and seated himself; remembering Padfoot's advice about making friends ("Just let them have you, right in their faces!")

"Can I sit here?" he asked politely, remembering Moony's words of advice as well ("Be polite, pup. Always try to be polite.")

The other boy nodded.

Harry took a deep breath.

"It's nice to meet you. My name is Harry Potter Lupin Black," he said.

The other boy looked at him curiously for a moment and then answered, very respectfully; "I'm Ron Weasley, and you have too many names."


	4. About a CAT

**Disclaimer**: I'm crazy, not delusional. JKR owns them all but Mitrad, who is mine.

**Warning**: if you find homosexuality offensive, please don't read this story. It would save you the trouble of getting all red and angry.

AND this is AU. I know some of you don't believe in AU's. I respect that, but note that there is a good reason for it's AUness- Sirius not being sent to Azkaban is a positive thing, isn't that?

**A/N**: To the brave and the glorious survivors of THE EVIL CHAPTER, I present: chapter 4. Before you start reading it, you should all know I like cats very much. I have three of them at home, actually. So all words against cats are said with humor, and the species of cats is much respected.

Kathryn, dearest beta, this story is partly yours, and my gratitude is fully yours. Thank you!

This one's for Roykush. Not quite the song I've promised, but I'm working on it...

Reviewers, you are all so sweet and lovely. Thank you! Keep telling me what you think, please (:

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**About a CAT**

Sirius could smell it before he even opened the door. The disturbing, disgusting, disastrous smell of

"A CAT!"

He was yelling, of course. What else could he do when his beloved Remus was holding something that was clearly A CAT?

"Hello dear, I didn't hear you walk in." Remus was smiling at him. SMILING, while holding A CAT in his arms. It was more than wrong. It was wrongness itself.

"You are holding A CAT!" In times of crisis, Sirius would turn to the safe and comforting act of stating the obvious.

"I know. You might think 31 is an old age, Sirius, but I'm still quite capable of controlling my limbs, thank you very much." Remus wasn't smiling anymore. In fact, he seemed quite annoyed.

"WHY are you holding A CAT?" Sirius managed to ask, a bit shakily.

"I found her on my way home. I think she's an orphan, there was no mother-cat in sight," Remus said while petting the little cat gently and glancing at the overly furious-looking Sirius.

"AND YOU BROUGHT IT HOME!" Sirius _was _overly furious.

"Is that a problem?" It clearly was a problem.

"I HATE CATS!"

"Oh."

"NO 'OH', I WANT IT OUT!"

"She's quite harmless, Padfoot."

"OUT!"

"And quite skinny."

"NOW!"

"And will not survive the winter."

"CAT. OUT. NOW."

They stared at each other for a while.

"Why do you hate cats, anyway?" Remus asked carefully.

Sirius sighed. "Not this psycholalalysis thing again, Moony, please," he said, not yelling anymore.

"Psychoanalysis and it's a useful tool. I want to understand what lies behind your irrational hatred towards the entire species of cats." Remus used his best psychoanalyzing voice.

"It's not irrational. Cats are evil," was Sirius' grumpy way of co-operating.

"Hmmm, I see." Remus was mature enough not to laugh right then, but he couldn't help a smile.

"It's not funny!" Sirius sulked. "My mother had a cat and it would always follow me around the house and give me dirty looks."

"Hmmm." Not laughing became harder.

"And it tried to eat my pet mouse."

Laughter was inevitable at that point, and Remus laughed hard. "I'm sorry, Pads, but you clearly had a traumatic experience with a cat. What we have to do is fix it."

"By kicking this thing out?"

"No, by making you live with it."

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Harry usually received letters at breakfast. Remus, concerned and overprotective, sent one almost every day, and Sirius often added his less coherent remarks at the bottom (or in the middle, when Remus failed to control him). One rainy Thursday morning, however, Harry received _two _letters.

The first one was from Sirius, and read:

_Harrypoo (Sirius had a sense for strange nicknames),_

_Moony has A CAT! A CAT I tell you! _

_Can you imagine something more horrific? Well, of course you can, you inherited Prongs' talent for vividly imagining horror occurrences (I still shiver every time I think about the Brain-Eating Muggles story you wrote for Moony's birthday). But that's hardly the point. The point is Moony has A CAT. A manipulative, sneaky, smelly CAT that made him lose his much-appreciated common sense. He actually LIKES the evil thing. He asked me to let it sleep in OUR BED! OUR BED, Harry. It must have some dark magic thing it uses on our Moony (the Cat, not the bed. I don't think beds can do magic. I did hear of a hexing dresser, though). _

_You must help me convince him to get rid of this thing. It's ruining my life! Yesterday Moony found a puddle of milk on the kitchen floor and blamed ME for it, when it was THE CAT taht did it. You should've seen the nasty look it gave me._

_So you see, Moony's losing his mind and we have to stop it before _

_BLOODY HELL, THE THING IS URINATING ON MY BIKING JACKET!_

_Got to go now. Talk to you soon!_

_Your miserable and discriminated (at his own house!) Padfoot._

The second was from Remus and read:

_Dearest pup,_

_How are you? How is school? Is Professor Snape still giving you a hard time? You should tell me if he does. I'll talk to Professor Dumbledore if necessary._

_We have a new cat! I'm sure you'll like her. I found her on the street, a tiny little hungry thing she was, but she's much better now and would make a beautiful fluffy cat soon enough. _

_Padfoot is a bit sore with her. Well, actually a little more than a bit. Quite a lot really. He doesn't like cats that much, it appears. I'm trying to get them to live in peace (cats know when somebody doesn't like them), but it is harder than you might think. Yesterday Padfoot spilled some milk on the floor and blamed the cat. It didn't help that I reminded him cats can't open milk bottles and lift them. He gave the poor cat a murderous look and stormed out. _

_Hope you're happy and safe,_

_Moony._

Harry usually wrote one letter to both his dads, and he did the same that rainy Thursday. And so Remus and Padfoot received one letter which read:

_Dear Dads,_

_Remember the time you argued about the colour of the living room curtains?_

_Moony said blue and Padfoot said red and the curtains ended up being colored in a sickening shade of purple._

_**I** remember. And so I ask you both, for the love of Merlin, DON'T TURN THE CAT PURPLE. _

_Just figure it out and go back to writing me ONE letter a day so Ron will stop making fun of me!_

_**Pads**- Moony's not losing his mind, and I'm not getting in the middle of it, even if you tell me how to sneak into the Gryffindor girls' dormitories (not that I **want** to go in there, of course, it's just a valuable piece of knowledge to have)._

_**Moony**- Snape is as mean as his usual self, but please don't talk to Dumbledore about this. It'll get worse if you do. I'm happy and safe and everything's fine._

_Yours truly (even when you drive me crazy),_

_Harry._

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Remus entered the silent house, taking a moment to enjoy its familiar scent. He had spent a week away from home, which gave him an opportunity to realize how much he loved this place, and the people in it. One person, at the moment, actually. A person who, for some reason, was unusually quiet.

"Sirius?" Remus stepped into the living room. There, on the couch, was one sleeping Sirius, with one sleeping cat on his stomach.

Remus took a step closer to the quite unreal image of a man and a cat. He sat quietly on the carpet and looked at them. Sirius, sensing his favourite werewolf even in his sleep, opened his eyes. "Moony," he said, pleased and sleepy. "We missed you." And he kissed Remus.

"We?" asked Remus, when his mouth was free again.

"Mitrad and me!" Sirius petted the cat's head. To Remus' surprised gasp he added "Well, I figured the cat would need a name if she was staying here, right?"

"She is?" Remus' lips started curling up a bit.

"Yeah, Mitrad here and I found out we had something in common and we are on more friendly terms now." Sirius' smile was wide.

"Oh, and what is it?" Remus asked.

"You, of course," Sirius said, and pulled him to the couch. "We both love you!"

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**A/N 2:** ten points and a cookie if you get the meaning of the cat's name!


	5. Abot the Boy

**Disclaimer**: JKR owns them all but Mitrad, who is mine.

**Warning**: if you find homosexuality offensive, please don't read this story. It would save you the trouble of getting all red and angry.

AND this is AU. I know some of you don't believe in AU's. I respect that, but note that there is a good reason for its AUness- Sirius not being sent to Azkaban is a positive thing, isn't that?

**A/N**: **Sprinklespring **and **Riesay** were the only ones to get the meaning of Mitrad's name. Cookies and points to you both (and to Riesay's helpful friend).

But the truth is that it wasn't very nice of me to ask you to get the meaning of what is, in fact, a Hebrew word. 'Mitrad' means nuisance, or annoyance in the language of the Israelis.

Now I know what you think- why on earth would Sirius Black know Hebrew? To which I answer: Sirius is a very mysterious person. And besides, it's AU (;

Cookies to all for trying, though!

Many thanks to Professor Kathryn for the beta reading .

Reviewers make the world a better place. Review!

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**About the Boy**

Remus loved baking. He loved all kitchen work, really, with the exception of fish-cleaning (because the fish always stared at him) and oven-cleaning (because it made him sneeze). No magic was used in the kitchen, then, since the only kitchen-useful spell Sirius knew was for boiling water, a spell which Remus didn't let him use, after an unfortunate incident involving a dancing pot and a broken nose.

And so Remus was standing in the magic-free kitchen and singing some old Muggle songs while baking a cake. It was no ordinary cake, mind. It was Harry's Birthday Cake - three layers of marvellous sweetness and brilliant smell. It was a cake to die for, or at least, to dye for (which Sirius did. His hair. In bright green, another unfortunate event), but the best, award winning, part of it was The Cream Dragon. A delicate, three-colored, cream-made dragon. Remus alone knew how to make it, using an extremely complicated recipe which occupied the better part of the afternoon. Harry himself was at The Burrow, where he'd spent most of the second month of the summer vacation.

And although Remus liked spending time in the kitchen, he DID NOT like having nicely-done work ruined by disobedient housemates. That was why he yelled. And since Remus rarely yelled, Sirius ran to the kitchen, his wand ready in his hand.

"Moony, what's wrong?" Sirius asked, a bit short of breath.

"The cat! The cat ate The Dragon!" Moony was furious and sorrowful at the same time, a combination he alone could carry gracefully.

"That sentence should not make sense," Sirius said, raising one black eyebrow.

And yet it did made sense to him, as he watched the little cat licking the remains of what was once a glorious Cream Dragon. "Oh," he said.

"Yes," Remus agreed angrily. "Oh dear, even." He stared at the cat who was sitting peacefully on the kitchen table, licking her paws.

"Well, maybe it's for the better," Sirius offered, petting the cat's head.

"Sirius, the cat could eat both of our wands and you would say it was for the better 'cause we should experience life without magic, or something equally ridiculous. You're a fool for her!" Remus said, looking at both of them from his angry spot in the corner of the kitchen.

"Maybe, but I mean it this time. Don't you think Harry is a bit old for a Cream Dragon on his cake?" Sirius said carefully.

"A bit old?" Remus was taken aback. "But he always has The Cream Dragon on his cake. It's like telling the story about the time he ran pantsless in that Muggle restaurant, or dancing around the birthday presents - we always do it on his birthday. It's a tradition!"

Sirius was hesitant. He went to stand near Remus, putting one arm around his shoulders. "But Harry's thirteen now, maybe it's time to change the tradition, just a little," he said gently.

"Traditions are meant to stay _the same_, Sirius, that's why they're called _traditions_," Remus said, and went to the fridge.

"Okay, Rem, I hope you're right," Sirius said and left the kitchen, leaving Remus to make, once again, an extremely complicated, highly traditional, Cream Dragon.

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Remus was hanging a home-made singing happy-birthday sign. Remus and Sirius had made it years before and it was a bit off key now (though some would say it was always like that). He was singing happily along, when Harry's head appeared in the fire to his left.

"Harry! You're not supposed to see it yet!" Remus said excitedly, trying to block the overly decorated room from sight.

"Ah, sorry." Harry rolled his eyes teenagedly.

Remus didn't seem to notice. "And where is the rest of your body?" he asked.

"Yeah, that's what I wanted to say, I'm staying at The Burrow for my birthday, okay? Fred and Gorge are giving me these cool Quidditch gloves that do commentary, and I really want to try them. I'll be home tomorrow." Harry said it in a rush, and it was clear that some very excited and impatient youngsters were urging his headless body from the fireplace.

"Tomorrow?"

"Yeah. Got to go, we're going out to play. See you tomorrow." Harry's head disappeared.

Remus was still staring at the now head-free fire when Sirius walked into the room, wearing a shiny birthday-hat. He took the hat off when he saw Remus' grief-stricken face.

"Moony?"

"You were right, Padfoot, I guess Harry _is_ a bit old for us," Remus said sadly.

"Not for _us_, Moony. Is he staying at the Weasleys?"

"Apparently so. It wasn't supposed to happen, Pads."

"What?"

"We weren't supposed to become so… obsolete." Remus sat down on the couch, sighing.

Sirius, sitting down beside him, felt his stomach clenching. A sad Moony was something he couldn't bear, and Sirius' stomach always spoke his emotions.

"We can never be obsolete, Moony; we're like good wine, or your socks' smell, we get better with time," Sirius said.

"My socks' smell?" Remus raised an eyebrow.

"It's just that Harry is growing up," continued Sirius, uninterrupted, "and he doesn't need us in the same way."

"But he's changed so much, it's like we don't live in the same dimension anymore." Remus was frustrated.

"Teenagerhood IS another dimension, Moony."

"Seems like it. You and Prongs weren't like any other creatures _this _world has ever seen when you were Harry's age," Remus said thoughtfully.

"Yeah, we were SO unworldly handsome, weren't we?" Sirius said with a wink, and they both laughed.

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After the dragon-trimmed birthday cake was safely stored in the fridge, and the sign silenced, the two men sat in their bed, ready to enjoy their well-deserved (or so Sirius claimed) sleep.

"You think I should get rid of the dragon?" Remus asked, not quite ready to let go of some troubling thoughts.

"Na, Harry does like it," Sirius said, willing to save all troubling for another day. "But I think we should lose the sign."

Remus lay silently for a few moments and then asked, a bit sadly, "Is _everything_ going to change, Pads?"

Sirius laughed, covering both of them in the blanket. "Not everything. Look at us," he said, and turned off the light. "So many years and we're still up to no good."


	6. About a Hair

**Disclaimer:** JKR owns them all. She's the one responsible for Sirius' present lack of existence. And if I choose to ignore said unfortunate turn of events in JKR's plot, I do it at my own risk. Try not to sue.

**Warning:** if you find homosexuality offensive, please don't read this story. It would save you the trouble of getting all red and angry.

AND this is AU. I know some of you don't believe in AUs. I respect that, but note that there is a good reason for its AUness- Sirius not being sent to Azkaban is a positive thing, isn't that?

**A/N:** I owe an apology to Roy, who also figured out the meaning of Mitrad's name, and, coldheartedly enough, wasn't mentioned. I'm SORRY, dear. All the points and cookies in the world to you. 

As always, Kathryn's hard work and general brilliantness make this story readable. _Thank you,_ _Kathryn._

Dedicated to Sharo, once again, 'cause "Soulmates never die, never die…"

Do review, all. It makes me extremely happy.

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About a Hair 

Sirius brushed his teeth sleepily. It was a bit early still ("so very _very_ early," Remus would say, "and on a _Saturday morning_"), but Sirius was never the one to waste a good Saturday morning in bed. Of course, he loved wasting time in bed with Awake Moony - Awake Moony was very entertaining. But Very Much Asleep Moony wasn't nearly as much fun. Therefore, Sirius left Remus at his boring, morning-consuming state and started the new day cheerfully.

He was even singing to himself, loudly and off-key, which was just another part of the Saturday morning routine.

Looking at the mirror in horror, though, was not a part of said routine. Screaming Remus' name wasn't a part of it either. Yet Sirius did both at once, rudely ignoring many years of blessed _routine_.

"REMUUUS!" And Remus woke up, confused. "REEEEEMUSS!" And he got off the bed and walked dizzily towards the bathroom.

"REEEEEMMMUUUUSSS!" This one was right at his ear, which was disturbing, he thought, and rather unfair. Routines were there for a reason.

Especially the ones involving him sleeping in bed and Sirius _not_ disturbing him.

"What's wrong, Padfoot?" Remus asked when the ringing in his ears stopped.

Sirius, finally noticing his arriving, pointed at his head with a whine, apparently miserable beyond speech.

"Your mind was always wrong that way, Pads, it's nothing new," said Remus with a yawn. "Can I go back to bed?"

"It's not my mind," Sirius whispered with some difficulty.

"Ah?" Remus wasn't at his sharpest in the mornings.

"It's my hair," Sirius explained, still whispering, and now lifting one shaky hand to his head. "I have a grey hair."

At that, Remus sat down on the bathroom floor. Some things should not be done standing up, he thought, especially on a Saturday morning. "You have a grey hair," he said calmly.

Sirius nodded his head gravely.

"Well, I have many grey hairs," Remus said.

Sirius sat down in front of him, leaning on the bathroom wall desperately. "Yeah, but you've had them since you were _thirteen_, they're part of your charm," he explained.

"I don't have charm."

"Yes you do, and soon it will all be wasted, because I'll be too _old_ to enjoy your loveliness."

"You have _one_ grey hair. You are not _old_."

"I am too. I can feel it; this hair is just the beginning. Soon I will have shaky hands, fake teeth and a funny smell."

"You already have a funny smell. I like it."

"_Moony_, you are not _helping_!" Sirius was losing his patience (which he didn't have much of to begin with, really).

"I'm sorry, Padfoot, but I cannot see the problem."

"The problem is me being old!"

"You are thirty-three!"

"ARGGG!"

"What?"

"Don't say that number!"

"What's wrong with thirty-three?"

"ARGGGGG! So many bloody threes in it!"

"Ahh." In his sleep-deprived state, Remus couldn't find a worthier retort to that, so he kissed Sirius' forehead, mumbled something about routines and Saturday mornings, and disappeared into the bedroom.

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During the following week, two letters were sent.

The first read:

_Dearest Harry,_

_I hope everything is well there, and that the greasy git, sorry, _Snape _(but I'll be_ _damned if I call this large-nosed abnormality 'Professor_'! _doesn't give you a hard time. _

_Heard of the last Quidditch match. Made me proud, though all Moony could talk about was the punch fight afterwards. He thinks you shouldn't punch people. Weird bloke our Moony is. You have my permission to punch all Slytherins. And Ravenclaws as well, if they deserve it (and Merlin knows they do, sometimes, being so annoyingly brainy). _

_But all punching aside, it is my unfortunate duty to tell you that I may not be around for very long now. It is a matter of a few short years once you start getting old, and I may be altogether old already. Yes, Harry, I have _a grey hair_. A GREY HAIR. You understand what that means, right? Moony doesn't seem to be bothered, which worries me, because he has actually seen said grey hair, and the most comforting thing he could say was that I have a funny smell. Do I have a funny smell?_

_So you see, Harry, you should write your old Padfoot while he's still able to appreciate it. I may start getting unintelligible and forgetful very soon (though I just might be quite dim-brained as it is, or so Moony claims). And you should write Moony as well, really, for he's still rather clear in mind and misses your letters greatly._

_Sincerely hope to be able to read when you next write,_

_Sirius._

The reaction to this letter was a smirk, and a shake of the head, combined.

The second read:

_Dear Dads,_

_It's all well in here, and I handle Snape just fine (come on Moony, I don't have to call him 'Professor' in my_ letters_, right?)._

_No punch fights occurred (though Slytherins and brainy Ravenclaws are all around), so don't worry._

_Padfoot (if you haven't lost your eyesight and you can still read this) – you do smell funny, but in a good way, I guess. And yes, your one grey hair must mean you are unbearably _old_. I can't see why Moony would think you are _overreacting.

_Moony - I get all your letters, and I wish I could reply more, but everyone thinks I'm a homesick baby already, because I have a picture of you and Padfoot on my nightstand. I'll never see the end of it, if I write you every day… _

_See you both soon,_

_Harry. _

One reaction to this letter was "You see, Moony, _Harry_ understands me!"

A second reaction was a happy, dazed stare into nowhere and a faint: "Padfoot, Harry keeps a picture of us on his nightstand."

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"I think I might be able to get used to this getting old thing, after all," Sirius said thoughtfully. He and Remus were sitting in the sunny garden drinking tea.

"You do?" Remus was too content to be annoyed that they were discussing the matter yet _again_. They had done it about four hundred million times before.

"Yes. You see, on the one hand I _do_ like my breathtakingly handsome young appearance" (a snort from Remus' general direction) "but on the other hand, it could be nice, getting old and having many peaceful afternoons like that." (An agreeing nod). "But on the other hand" ("Sirius, you only have _two_ hands.") "I may start forgetting important stuff, like your name, and Harry's birthday, and brushing my embarrassingly grey hair, and that's not nice at all!"

"Sirius, you are getting all hysterical again."

"I have a grey hair, Moony, and I'm getting OLD. OF COURSE I'm hysterical!"

Remus looked for a moment at the heavy-breathing, wild-eyed Sirius and then, in one fluid movement, reached a hand to his hair and took the thin, barely-visible, Grey Enemy away, sending it flying softly in the slow spring wind.

"This is it, Padfoot," Remus said, "You no longer have a grey hair. Now drink your tea."


	7. About GefilteFish

**Disclaimer:** JKR owns Remus, Sirius and Harry. Kathryn owns most of the ending. The little that's left is mine.

**Warning:** There are crazy rabbis and smelly foods in this chapter. You have been warned!

**A/N:** It's been a while, eh? Sorry… Hope you're still out there, good readers! 

My thanks to Kathryn for oh-so-many corrected commas, and more.

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**About Gefilte-Fish**

"We should become Jewish!" Sirius announced, not bothering to close the door he had just burst in through.

"Tonight?" Remus asked without looking up from the crossword he was working on (Remus took his crosswords very seriously). "I think we have some fifteen minutes before dinner's ready. And close the door, please."

Sirius rolled his eyes, closed the door and sat down on the couch across from Remus. "I'm serious, Moony," he said, gesturing widely with his hands, which was the sure sign that he was much excited – more than one innocent passer-by had been injured because of a close proximity to a Very Excited Sirius Black.

"Aren't you always?" Moony smiled over his crossword.

"Moony!" This pun was _ancient_. And _annoying_.

"Sorry Padfoot, but life experience has taught me not to take too seriously any announcements made by you after 6 p.m.," Remus said gravely, and then sighed as Sirius snatched the crossword and sat on it, saying "I demand your undivided attention, nonetheless."

"Okay then, tell me, my dear serious Sirius, why is it that you want us to become Jewish on this day of all days?"

"We can't do it _today_. Becoming Jewish takes time, Moony," Sirius said with no little sense of self-importance.

"Uh. So why is it that you want us to become Jewish through a long and meaningful process, then?"

"'Cause it's bloody brilliant!" Sirius said, and all air of dignified maturity was gone. "You know what they have, Moony? They have _calendars_!"

"Brilliant indeed. We have one too; it's hanging on the kitchen door. Would you like us to go there and worship it?"

"No! They have calendars that follow the phases of the_ moon_."

"It's called a lunisolar calendar, Padfoot. It indicates both the solar year and the phase of the moon."

"You knew that? You knew that there was a brilliant calendar that could tell us when there would be full moon months in advance and you didn't get one?"

"I never really needed a calendar to tell me when the full moon is. I can feel it."

"But with a calendar we could both know it, and plan our lives according to it. We could know in March when would be the full moon of November!"

In all honesty, Remus didn't care much for thinking about November's moon in March. He didn't care much for thinking about any moon at any time, really. But Sirius was excited, and that was something Moony did care much for. Greatly. So he tried to be more cooperative: "But can't you just learn how to read the Jewish calendar without becoming Jewish?" he asked.

"Where's the fun in that?"

"I'm not sure how 'fun' fits into this discussion."

"Oh, but of course it does; Jewish people have all these fun things about them!"

Remus could recognize a lost cause when he saw one, and the wild-gesturing, wide-smiling Sirius was definitely one. So he gave up. "Fine, you can go ahead and become Jewish if that's what you want, but I'm not taking any part in it," he said.

Sirius looked disappointed. "But why?" he asked, all saddened expression and puppy eyes.

Remus didn't let it soften him. "Because, my dear Padfoot, have you ever heard of a Jewish-gay-werewolf? I'd be a minority of one person; even for me it's a bit too much."

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When Remus and Harry got home from the train station a few days later, a strange smell welcomed them.

"Padfoot?" Remus asked into the air of the first floor.

"In the kitchen!" was the unusual response.

Remus and Harry followed the trail of funny smell into the surprisingly Sirius-inhabited kitchen. Sirius turned to give them both bone-crushing hugs. "So, Harrypoo, how was the ride?" he asked happily, ignoring the wrinkled noses and suspicious glances of his two favourite people.

"You're wearing an apron. And something that doesn't pass for a hat," said Harry, feeling some things cannot be ignored.

"You mean my Kippah?" Sirius asked cheerfully, touching the round, not-really-hat-like thing on his head.

Harry stared at him.

"Sirius is becoming Jewish," Remus explained.

"Oh." Harry thought about it for a moment. "So he's cooking socks?" he asked, pointing at the grey, shapeless chunks Sirius had been seemingly cooking.

"Hey, don't insult my dish! It may look a bit off now, but just wait one minute," Sirius said while moving back to the counter. He added a slice of carrot on top of each chunk. "There!" he said victoriously.

"Socks with carrots?" Harry raised an eyebrow Remusly.

"Don't be a prat," Sirius huffed, "it's Gefilte-fish!"

"Jewish food," explained Remus.

"Oh," said Harry again, "Jewish people eat socks." And with that he left the kitchen and went up to his hopefully Judaism-free room. He stormed back into the kitchen two minutes later.

"There's a box on the side of my door and it's yelling at me," he said.

Remus shook his head gravely. "Is it telling you that you're not eating enough, that your shirt is dirty and that your room is a mess?" he asked Harry, but stared pointedly at a guilty-looking Sirius. Harry nodded.

"Sorry, pup," Sirius said, pulling his wand from his apron pocket, "the magical Mezuzot (1) I put on the doors don't work as planned. I wanted them to help me with the becoming-Jewish stuff, but instead they try to help me with everything else. I think they have a bit of a Jewish Mother spirit to them, instead of the Jewish Rabbi I was going for."

He left, closing the kitchen door behind him (Mitrad seemed to find the Gefilte fish very eatable).

"He'll have to break this one too," Remus said when the door was closed, not hiding a little smile. "The one on our bedroom door kept telling him that he should try to be more considerate with his snoring, as my wife, so he broke it."

Harry laughed, a bit worryingly. He _knew_ it wasn't safe to leave Moony and Padfoot alone in the house for so long, but he couldn't watch them _all the time_. He had to go to school and all that. But the results were disturbing. Though this time it seemed like Remus was just as disturbed as Harry was, which was good. Moony could control Padfoot, couldn't he? Harry hoped for the best.

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Remus could take all that. It was annoying, and sometimes exhausting, but bearable. He could even see why Sirius would be attracted to religion; it was a different kind of magic, one that required large quantities of faith and devotion, and promised love and protection in return. And weren't those exactly the things Sirius lacked as a child? But sympathetic as he was, Remus couldn't understand why Sirius had to choose the difficult and demanding Judaism, of all religions. If he could only become a Buddhist and spend his days meditating, it would save everybody lots of headaches.

Sharing his annoyance with Harry was comforting. Together they managed to laugh it off and hope for Sirius to get bored with his new obsession.

They kept on hoping for a week, during which they tried to be tolerant and accepting while Sirius went to his daily meetings with Rabbi Tsarot and came back speaking of splitting seas ("Like the time me and Prongs dried half the lake at Hogwarts, but theIsraelites folks did it with _no magic_!") and singing the Hava Nagila ("I can show you the dance, too!").

They smiled kindly when he threw away all the bacon ("Jewish people don't eat pork! It's not kosher"), and when he nearly burned the curtains with the Sabbath candles ("Rabbi Tsarot says it's nice to put them in the window so others can feel the spirit of Sabbath!").

They ignored him politely when he cooked some more strange-smelling Jewish dishes ("It's Mrs. Tsarot's own recipe!") and when he wore a variety of ridiculous Kippahs ("Don't you think they go well with my eyes?")

It was the name thing that broke them at last.

Sirius came back from his Rabbi meeting with a new Kippah, and a new name.

"You want us to call you WHAT?" Harry asked, petting Mitrad a little too harshly, which bought him an angry hiss.

"Rakh-Kaf," (2) Sirius said simply. Really, he didn't see any problem with that, which only made things worse, at least in Remus' mind.

"We can't call you Rakh-Kaf,_"_ he said, closing the door after Sirius.

"Why not? It's my Hebrew name. Rabbi Tsarot decided it's time for me to have one," Sirius said proudly. "It means Padfoot in Hebrew," he explained when seeing Remus and Harry's disapproving faces.

"It sounds like something you'd say if you stepped in a puddle of poo," Harry stated.

"It sounds like these Falafel-fish things looked like," Remus added.

"_Gefilte_-fish," Sirius corrected flatly, "and Rakh-Kaf is a respectable Jewish name, and I expect you to use it." And he went to make some big, socks-y Gefilte-fish for dinner, just to make the point clear.

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Remus and Harry decided they had had enough. Sirius might be an annoying prat, but he did not deserve to have a name that sounded smelly (and it sounded smelly, whatever way they looked at it). So they thought about it for a while, and being the intelligent beings they were, and also very desperate, they came up with a Plan.

The next evening, when Sirius came back from his rabbi, he stepped into a trap. It may have looked like Remus and Harry sitting peacefully in the living room, but it was really a trap.

"So, how Jewish are you by now, _Rakh-Kaf_?" asked Harry casually, trying not to wrinkle his nose at the name.

"Getting closer every day," Sirius answered, and the joy in his voice made it harder for Remus to take the next step of The Plan. But there was no choice, really, so he said "So you'll be circumcised soon, then?"

Sirius paled a little. "Circumcised?" he asked weakly.

"Of course" Harry said, hiding an evil smile, "all Jewish men are circumcised."

"But they only do it to babies, right?" Sirius turned to Remus and asked pleadingly.

"Babies and grown men who convert," Remus answered with a sigh.

There was a moment of silence. But Harry wasn't quite done, yet. "Maybe Rabbi Tsarot can do it for you," he suggested.

"Are you nuts?!" Sirius jumped from his seat, making Mitrad hiss again. "The bloke makes chunks of his fish; I'm not letting him anywhere _near_ my private bits!"

And that was that for Judaism, as far as Sirius was concerned.

They did keep the calendar though; it turned out to be rather useful.

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(1) Mezuzah- the Mezuzah is a small box, affixed to the doorposts of all doors (except bathrooms) in the Jewish house. Inside the box there is a parchment inscribed with two sections from the Book of Deuteronomy (6:4-9 and 11:13-21), meant to protect the house and the people living in it. The Mezuzah is one of the 613 commandments in Judaism. The Muggle Mezuzot don't usually talk, thouh…

(2) Rakh-Kaf- sadly enough, 'Rakh-Kaf' really is the Hebrew translation to 'Padfoot'. So you can see how reading the Hebrew version of Harry Potter can be somewhat disturbing.

**A/N2:** Being very much Jewish myself I see it as my inherited right to make fun of Judaism. Still, I hope nobody finds anything in this chapter offensive. If you do, please tell me, as I have no intention of insulting anybody.


	8. About Dancing with Daisies

**Disclaimer**: If I owned Harry Potter, movie-Remus would never have a _moustache_. I don't own it, and we all suffer. (Please don't be offended by this, moustached-Remus fans! I guess _you_ don't suffer…)

**Warning**: Some overly creative euphemisms for the word "homosexual".

**A/N**: I wanted to thank you all for reviewing, fine people. The reviews for last chapter were especially nice, and I was delighted to find so many fellow Jewish Puppyshippers (care to join my PWK Puppies with Kippahs club?). Many thanks.

The overly creative euphemisms in this chapter are borrowed from "Pumpkin's List of the Creative Way to Say 'Gay'". Highly educational document, by the way. Thank you, Pumpkin.

Kathryn- thank you for the beta reading, and for guiding me through the complexities of British English (never again will I use the word 'dinner' without considering its grave cultural implications).

**Another note: I think that it's rather impossible to follow the time-line of this story, seeing that it mainly exists in my mind (the time line, not the story. I hope…). So, to make it clearer- the events described in this chapter take place during the summer following Harry's fourth year at Hogwarts.**

It appears that my Author notes end up being longer than the actual chapter. Do they have awards for ridiculous fanfiction writers like me?

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**About Dancing With Daisies**

Remus and Sirius were sitting in the kitchen, heavy and content after a big Sunday morning breakfast (1). Ron Weasley was meant to floo in later on that day and stay with Harry for the last week of the summer holidays. Harry himself was still in his room, getting presentable, and so Sirius decided it was a good time to discuss maturely an important issue with Remus.

"Moony, do you think Harry dances with the daisies?" he asked.

"Excuse me?"

"Well, you know, do you think he cheats in checkers, mixes his cocoa?"

"What?"

"Lifts shirts?"

"Are you trying to ask me whether I think Harry's a homosexual, Padfoot?"

"Do you have to make everything sound so boring?"

"Only when I want people to understand what I'm talking about. What makes you think that Harry's gay?"

"I think he and Ron might dance with the daisies _together_ or, more likely, they want to, but they don't know how, 'cause they're not sure about the daisies and the dancing and whether daisies are meant to be danced with, when it concerns the both of them." Sirius breathed deeply and looked expectantly at Remus.

"Can you please use sentences that also make sense _outside_ your head?"

"What's wrong with my daisies metaphor?"

"Well, there are daisies in it, for starters."

"Ha! Remus Lupin, from you, of all people, I least expected it!"

"Expected what?"

"You're a floweracist!"

"A what?"

"A floweracist! You think some flowers are better than others!"

"Most people do! And you do too!"

"Yeah, but I don't let it affect my judgment. I would never mock somebody's metaphor just because there are daisies in it!"

"My apologies to the daisies, Padfoot, but they're not the ones I meant to mock. I was mocking your metaphor because it didn't make sense."

"I think it made perfect sense - Harry and Ron aren't sure about dancing with the daisies, meaning, they aren't sure about _being a couple_."

"But what do the daisies have to do with it?"

"Here you go at it again, insulting the daisies! I can tell you right now, they do not accept your apology. In fact they think you're a mean and insulting person. If I were you I would avoid any daisies I pass by in the future."

"I'll be sure to keep that in mind. Now please forget about the daisies and try to concentrate on explaining your Ron and Harry theory."

"I think maybe they fancy each other."

"And you're basing your assumption on thoughtful research, I presume?"

"Don't you think Harry's been looking exceptionally cheerful the last few days?"

"Ron is his friend, Sirius, of course he's happy to see him."

"Maybe, but he's been spending an awfully long time dressing this morning."

"It's a reasonable amount of time considering he inherited James's hair."

Harry chose that moment to come down the stairs, jumping dangerously into the kitchen.

"And look how excited he is!" Sirius said victoriously.

"I'm not excited, I'm _pained_! The stupid cat made my toes meet the wall in a painful way," Harry answered, glaring at the pair sitting by the table.

"Don't look at me, she's Remus's cat!"

"Not really, Padfoot. Mitrad sticks her nose where it doesn't belong, steals everybody's food and causes painful accidents. I may have brought her here, but she's definitely _your_ cat."

To make the point clearer, there was a loud '_bang'_, followed by a louder '_mrrow_!' (2) and Ronald Weasley was stepping off a Very Angry Cat. "Sorry," he said, his ears turning pink, "she sat right at the point where I flooed in."

When Harry helped Ron brush off the ash and Angry Cat attached to his clothes, Sirius smiled quietly to himself. When he silently mouthed the word 'daisies', Remus was the only one to roll his eyes. And Ronald Weasley had no idea what a week was storming upon him.

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Although all he had uncovered in his mature conversation with Remus was Remus' irrational hatred towards daisies, Sirius wasn't giving up on clearing the Harry-and-Ron issue. He was a Marauder, after all, and Marauders didn't quit. All he needed to do, he figured, was to make Harry and Ron realize what they so clearly felt for each other.

It was a parental duty, actually, thinking about it closely. He could save Harry the years of silent longing and desperation he and Remus had experienced before they found their way to each other's arms. Harry and Ron shouldn't be left to struggle and find said way on their own, not when they could be gently guided or, if needed, roughly pushed. So Sirius resolved.

And these resolutions were the reason he sat with the two young boys in the sunny garden, looking around for inspiration. Harry was reading some Quidditch magazine or other, and Ron was entertaining Mitrad with her toy mouse (the cat, much like her black-haired owner, was always quickly forgiven for her trespasses), none of them being very inspiring.

The sound of bees, though, reminded Sirius of a conversation with Harry, long ago.

"Don't you think it's weird, what they say about the birds and the bees?"

Two heads turned lazily to stare at him. Sirius felt encouraged.

"I mean, why would the bees want to have anything to do with the birds?" he said, waving his hands in the air for good measure. "Wouldn't it make more sense for the bees to want the birds to mind their own business?"

"I think _this_ bee,' said Harry, pointing at an annoyed-looking bee near Sirius' dangerously-motioning hand, "wants you to mind _your_ own business."

But it was too late, as the bee did what bees do when they aren't busy socializing with birds, and stung Sirius' finger.

A weaker soul would give up after that, but Sirius wasn't weak. He was strong and resourceful, so the next day he hid in the closet. It was the downstairs closet where coats and umbrellas were stored, and it was a rainy day. Sirius figured Harry and Ron would have to come searching for umbrellas eventually, when they got tired of the indoors and the disturbing scent of Remus' guava soup (Sirius was convinced that the soup was Remus' revenge over the Gefilte-fish thing. There was no other reason for the usually-reasonable Remus to make soup out of _guavas_).

And so he waited.

The closet smelled of old cheese. Remus always remembered to take pieces of cheese in his pockets, for the hungry stray cats, and always forgot to take the remaining pieces out. The closet was also inhabited by big spiders that had many legs, and an unexplained, newly-found affection towards Sirius' hair.

Sirius had never hated closets so much. And still he waited.

Closets, cheese, spiders and Severus Snape were competing for the top spot in Sirius' List of Most Hated Things, when Harry came down the stairs with Ron and finally opened the downstairs closet door. He wasn't as surprised as he should have been upon seeing Sirius there. Ron, on the other hand, raised his eyebrows as far as he could. "Do you sit in the closet often?" he asked politely.

"Well, Mr Weasley, too often for my liking," Sirius replied conversationally. "You know, sometimes we find ourselves stuck in the closet, and all we need is for somebody to give us a hand and help us out." He examined Ron's response to that, and was satisfied to see the boy's face filling with horror.

"I know it may seem scary at first, but…" Sirius never managed to explain the wonders of being helped out of the closet, since the horror-struck Ron turned and escaped to the guava-smelling kitchen mid-sentence.

Sirius sighed. "Sorry Padfoot," Harry said, smirking, "I should have warned you not to try any important speeches on Ron when you have spiders in your hair. He hates them." And he left Sirius to free himself from the closet and the spiders on his own.

Sirius was even more determined to force the two stubborn boys to face their true feelings. By _all_ means.

"Has Harry ever told you how Remus and I let Hogwarts know we were together?" Sirius asked Ron the next evening at supper time.

"_No_!" Harry replied, instead of Ron, whose mouth was full of guava soup. "And he isn't interested!"

"Why Harry, I think it is an important and _educational_ piece of our family history, therefore it's very interesting," Sirius said, and took a piece of parchment out of his pocket.

"You don't make any sense, Padfoot," Remus said, pink-cheeked and horrified, while trying, unsuccessfully, to snatch the parchment. But making sense was never one of Sirius' strengths and his arms were longer than Remus', and Remus knew it was a lost cause.

"I wrote Remus a poem, declaring my love for him, and read it at breakfast in the Great Hall. I can read it for you now," Sirius said, turning back to Ron, clearing his throat and starting to read from the parchment:

'Oh, my dear Moony

how you make my days loony,

how you make my nights…'"

But the rest of the poem was lost forever when the Important and Educational Piece of Family History was ruined by a splash of guava soup, coming out of the now-choking Ron's mouth. (Though Remus, sentimental being that he was, kept three copies of said poem, in three separate, highly secure, places).

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Sirius and Remus were sitting in the kitchen, alone again. Ron had flooed back home earlier that morning, and Harry was busy packing his belongings for the new term starting the following day.

"So I'll guess we're left in the dark about the Harry and Ron thing, then," Remus said over a cup of tea. He preferred it that way, really. He knew Harry would find his way with his own love life, whether it was girls he liked, or boys.

"Left in the dark?" Sirius exclaimed. "Didn't you see how they hugged each other before Ron left?"

"They embraced brotherly, Padfoot."

"Embraced like brothers my ass, or rather, Harry's ass - Ron was definitely staring at it."

A moment of silence. And then:

"You know, Padfoot, all reading in the Great Hall aside, I'm glad that I was the one to come out to you first."

"You are?"

"Yeah, if it was up to you, we would have still lived in the misery of pining for each other, while you would have got into trouble with closets and the entire kingdom of bugs."

"Maybe. Or maybe one day I would have dragged you out and made you dance with me and the daisies."

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(1)A note for the dirty-minded (coughSharocough)- it may _sound_ like I'm talking about something that isn't quite breakfast here, but it's a k+ story. I'm talking about breakfast. Please don't give the inquisition any _wrong_ ideas, okay?

(2)Of spelling and cats- initially, the voice made by Mitrad was "miyaouww", since this is what my cat sounds like. But my cat isn't British (though he might like to think he is, being the dinner-with-the-queen type). Kathryn's cats, on the other hand, are very much British, and she says they make "mrrow"s. So "mrrow" it is.


	9. About Beards and Dresses

**Disclaimer:** I would never make Sirius hide behind a veil for a whole book.

**Warnings:** Blackmail, cross-dressing, daisies.

**A/N:** Has it really been two months? Oh.

This chapter is dedicated to **Sprinklespring** and **Kai** (figured I should call you by your virtual-world name here..). Thank you for your support, girls.

**Kathryn**- you're wonderful.

Trying to follow the time-line? Harry's fifth year at Hogwarts

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**About Beards and Dresses**

It was meant to be another peaceful Wednesday afternoon. Nothing special ever happened on Wednesday afternoons, and Remus preferred it that way. He could sit with a book or a paper, drink lemon tea (too sweet, if Sirius had been the one to make it) and look up occasionally to see the long figure leaning over the motorcycle in the yard, as Wednesday was also the Holy Day of Motorcycle Cleaning. In these times even the Killing Machine seemed almost harmless. Almost.

This particular Wednesday afternoon, though, Remus looked up from his book (some cheesy, soft-cover novel he would later hide in the laundry-soap drawer, safe from Sirius' mocking remarks or, worse, genuine interest) to see an approaching battleship, aiming, no doubt, to scare away all peace and quiet.

It wasn't a literal battleship, of course, but their elderly neighbour; though with her waving gown and determined marching, the random passer-by might feel in need of a white flag. Not Remus Lupin, though. He knew the old witch (in her case it was merely a fact, not an insult) too well to consider surrendering. He would not cave in to whatever Mrs Lorakra was coming to ask him for. He had had more than half a decade long experience in avoiding Singing Pumpkins Competitions, Pixies-Dance Gatherings and other overly creative Community Activities solely arranged by this witch.

By the time Mrs Lorakra reached the door (unnoticed by Sirius, humming to himself over the Machine), Remus had gathered all his will-power, together with a second cup of tea.

When greetings were over and tea drunk, Remus braced himself for impact.

"You can probably guess that I have come with _a_ _purpose_, Mr Lupin," said the witch.

'To see Sirius' behind, of course!' would pass with some of the other female neighbours, maybe, but not with Mrs Lorakra. "Is it time for the annual Decorated-Brooms Parade already?" He tried to earn some time.

"Not nearly. And I wouldn't have bothered coming to invite you to that one when you have already told me about Mr Black's unfortunate Broom Allergy."

"And rightly so; the sight of Sirius all blown-up and spotted can be very unsettling. We wouldn't want to scare the children."

"Indeed. And since you have mentioned the children, my request to you - "

Remus didn't know anyone who could make the word 'request' sound like a command better than Mrs Lorakra - "it is Merlin's Beard Day next Saturday, and I would like you and Mr Black to play the parts of Merlin and Fair Merlina."

"Fair Merlina?"

"Merlin's female helper."

"I never knew he had one."

"He didn't, of course, but we want to raise our children with gender-equality awareness. Merlin's Beard Day is all about passing the traditions and values of the wizarding community on to the next generation."

"I thought it was about cotton-candy beards and chocolate wands."

"Good, so this year you will have the opportunity to deepen your knowledge of the holiday."

"I'm afraid that would be impossible, Mrs Lorakra. Unfortunately enough Sirius is also very much allergic to children."

"How horrible, raising little Harry must have been very difficult for him."

"Oh, very much so. He had to wear a face-mask all hours of the day, and he would only take it off at night. Even then we had our fair share of unfortunate accidents, when Harry would wake from a nightmare and come to our room causing poor Sirius to be red and itchy for hours long."

"How very unpleasant."

"Very. Luckily, when the child reaches ten or eleven, Sirius' symptoms reduce dramatically. Now that Harry's fifteen he only causes a light itch every now and then and no more than that."

"Such horrible luck it is that the audience for Merlin's Beard Day is of the very age group that risks Mr Black so."

"Horrible," Remus sighed silently in relief. Much too soon, he quickly learned.

"Though I've noticed that he is fairly keen on risks, Mr. Black is."

"Oh?"

"I saw him flying on that horrible motorbike of his last week. A dangerous machine."

"Monstrous; but Sirius likes it." Am _I really agreeing with Mrs Lorakra on something?_ thought Remus in disbelief.

"He can like it very well on the ground, Mr. Lupin, but when he flies recklessly around on it, it risks our entire community. I have kept my mouth shut, up until now, but I begin to fear that I would be neglecting my duty if I didn't report this to Mr Weasley at Misuse of Muggle Artifacts office. I wonder what he would have to say about a flying motorbike."

He would probably ask Sirius for a ride, Remus thought, but Arthur had superiors, and Sirius' motorcycle was hardly legal.

Mrs Lorakra read her victory in his face. "Of course, our community is widely accepting and we can let the dangerous machine be, if it is important to dear Mr Black, because we _know_ that you will both give back to the community in your turn."

Remus waved his metaphorical white flag, or rather looked at her sadly in surrender. "What will we have to do?" he asked.

"How kind of you to ask, Mr Lupin," she said cheerfully, and took out two alarmingly colorful sets of clothes from a big basket. "All you have to do is walk around and entertain the children. One of you will wear Merlin's hat and cape, and the other will wear Fair Merlina's _lovely_ purple dress."

"Of course," Remus said, looking at the dress limply.

"You should decide which costume will go better with Sirius' face-mask," she said viciously and left the house commenting on their _beautiful _living-roomcurtains.

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"It's blackmail!" Sirius said angrily.

"And is entirely your fault," Remus replied, looking unhappily at the costumes lying on the sofa. Merlina's purple dress was especially hideous.

"It is not! The evil witch would never have seen me on the bike if it wasn't for the ridiculous _orange_ helmet you made me wear!"

"How foolish of me to think that your head is a vital part of your body. But it doesn't matter now. We are going to be Merlin and Fair Merlina and nothing can be done about it."

"I am _not_ wearing a purple dress."

"It was your ugly machine that got us into this mess."

"No, it was _your_ helmet that did!"

As always, when they needed a mature judge for their argument, they turned to Harry. A letter was sent to Hogwarts that evening, explaining the situation.

A reply arrived the next morning:

_Dearest Moony and Padfoot,_

_Which one of you is more womanly? That's a weird question. I thought the whole point of dancing with the daisies was **not** having a woman in the relationship **at**_ _**all**. But since I'm getting a say in this, I think Padfoot should wear the dress; Ron has been reciting the first lines of that stupid poem ever since his visit last summer and it's driving me nuts. It is your doing, Padfoot! I think some hours in a purple dress might be punishment enough._

_Anyway, next time when Mrs. Battleship pays a visit, call Mitrad to meet her, you know how the lady hates cats._

_Have a happy Merlin's Beard Day! (Ha ha),_

_Harry._

_P.S. Moony, I beg you to take pictures of our Fair Merlina. I should enjoy my payback._

"This does not make me more feminine than you," said Sirius when they finished reading.

"Of course not. Padfoot, dear, why is Harry using your ridiculous daisies metaphor?"

"I tested it on him. I needed some reassurance after you crashed my self- confidence."

"You _tested_ it on him?"

"Oh, don't worry Moony, I didn't talk about _Ron and him_, I used the metaphor _hypothetically_. And he obviously thinks it is a useable metaphor, wise child that he is!"

"Wise indeed. And we should do what our wise child says. Let's see how the purple dress fits you."

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The Saturday of Merlin's Beard Day passed as peacefully as anyone could have hoped for, aside from one risky conversation between Sirius and a little girl ("You're wearing a dress," said she. "So are you," said Sirius, and, luckily, it settled the matter) and many cotton-candy sticky hands on Remus' face as the children needed to check why his beard wasn't the same color as his hair.

In fact, both men found themselves enjoying their time being surrounded by the little people, loud and unexpected and wicked in their innocent, lovable way.

"Don't you miss having a tiny happy thing running around the house?" Remus asked when they arrived home, exhausted but fairly satisfied.

"I know the dress is a bit deceiving, Moony, but I haven't grown a womb down there," Sirius said, laughingly. "But I know what you mean. Harry has grown too fast." He started taking off the now wrinkled dress.

"No, Padfoot!" Remus pulled at his sleeve. "I think you look _very_ handsome in the dress."

"In that case, I might be willing to wear it a little longer," Sirius said, sitting down beside Remus, "if you let me explain the logic of my daisies metaphor to you once more."

And all beards and dresses aside, Remus and Sirius had a lovely evening.


End file.
